Chapter 236: Diary 3

While the internet was abuzz, a special discussion was underway in a conference room of the People's Education Press.

"Should Li Yuxuan be included in the textbooks? In what form? To what extent?" Textbook Review Committee chair Zhou Ming hammered the table, with draft history textbooks for elementary, middle and high school spread before him.

In the conference room sat a dozen or so historians, frontline teachers and editors. The wall projection displayed several excerpts from The Diary of Li Yuxuan:

June 16, 1924, Huangpu opened. The Young Master instructed me to draft training regulations. I reflected: To save the nation one must first strengthen the army, and to strengthen the army one must first cultivate virtue. Without the will to serve the country and love for the people, even the finest weapons are no different from warlords…

November 3, 1937, Wusongkou position. Japanese naval artillery raged day and night; three fortifications were destroyed and rebuilt. Lu Yang, a Second‑phase Huangpu Student, before sacrificing his life entrusted a messenger: "Tell the director, the students have not disgraced the name of Huangpu." Hearing this brought tears. The battle was fierce, yet it had to be held, for tens of thousands of civilians in the rear had not withdrawn…

May 6, 1949, Xikou. The war had become untenable. Orders were issued for all units not to make needless sacrifices; safeguarding the land and the people was paramount. Li Nian'an led his unit southward, urging them to "forever uphold the Chinese spirit." I knew this life might end here, yet I felt no remorse.

A high school history teacher spoke first: "From my teaching practice, Li Yuxuan is an excellent case of 'the complexity of historical figures.' Today's students are exposed to abundant information; they are not convinced by a simple good‑versus‑bad dichotomy. Li Yuxuan has both anti‑Japanese war achievements and historical limitations. He is loyal to personal gratitude yet harbors a sense of national righteousness. This contradiction can precisely guide students to think deeply about history."

"But how do we strike the right balance?" a senior editor asked anxiously. "In elementary textbooks, should we mention him? If we do, how should we phrase it? Should we tell the children, 'This grandfather fought the Japanese devils, but also fought the Republic'?"

The conference room fell silent for a moment.

Young scholar Chen Qing raised his hand: "I propose a tiered approach. At the elementary level, within the 'All‑Nation Anti‑Japanese War' unit, we can briefly mention Li Yuxuan's anti‑Japanese deeds under the image of a 'Patriotic General,' emphasizing his defense of Wusongkou and protection of civilians. At the middle‑school level, within the 'KMT‑CCP Cooperation and Confrontation' unit, we can use him as a case study for students to discuss 'the relationship between personal loyalty and national righteousness.' At the high‑school level, we can introduce excerpts from his diary in elective modules or source‑study sessions, allowing students to analyze and evaluate independently."

"What about Li Nian'an's journey to the South Seas?" someone asked.

"That part is too complex; I don't recommend it for basic education textbooks," Chen Qing shook his head. "It can be explored in university history majors or research‑based learning."

The discussion lasted three hours. In the end, the editorial committee reached a preliminary consensus: in the next round of textbook revisions, Li Yuxuan will enter primary and secondary history textbooks in the capacity of 'Anti‑Japanese War General' and 'Huangpu Educator,' with moderate inclusion. The wording must be carefully chosen, both affirming his national righteousness and noting his historical limitations.

When the meeting ended, Zhou Ming looked at the dimming sky outside and said softly, "Our textbooks are finally beginning to teach children that history is not simply black or white."

At the end of October 2014, the History Department lecture hall of Beijing University was packed. The academic symposium on The Diary of Li Yuxuan was held there. Five historians sat on the stage, and in the audience, besides professional scholars, many university students and citizens attended out of curiosity.

The controversy erupted during the open‑question segment.

A middle‑aged scholar stood up, his tone sharp: "I noticed that today everyone's remarks focus heavily on Li Yuxuan's anti‑Japanese achievements and late‑life contributions. Yet I believe that evaluating a historical figure must first consider their fundamental political stance. Li Yuxuan never publicly opposed his Young Master, nor acknowledged the reactionary nature of the Kuomintang regime. His 'patriotism' is an abstract nationalism lacking a class position. Should such a historical figure be praised so highly?"

Onstage, senior historian Professor Zhao adjusted his glasses: "My colleague raises a good point. Yet our study of history is not to label the ancients, but to understand the inherent complexity of history itself. Li Yuxuan's diary precisely shows how, in that tumultuous era, a Chinese person educated in tradition yet exposed to Western thought painfully wrestled among personal grudges, political stance, and national righteousness. That very struggle is part of history."

A female student in the audience raised her hand: "I'm an exchange student from Taiwan University. In Taiwan, Li Yuxuan's name is rarely mentioned. I'd like to ask, what significance does the publication of this diary have for constructing a shared historical memory across the strait?"

Another scholar onstage took the microphone: "That's an excellent question. Li Yuxuan's uniqueness lies in his high‑level respect from both KMT and CCP leadership. In Taiwan, he is a Huangpu Elder and a Famous Anti‑Japanese General; on the Mainland, he is a Patriotic General and a Cultural‑Historical Contributor. His diary records many shared cross‑strait historical experiences—Huangpu Establishment, anti‑Japanese resistance. Perhaps this 'shared memory' can become a cornerstone for cross‑strait dialogue."

The symposium ended in the evening. Scholars left one after another, yet in the hallway outside the lecture hall, several young graduate students continued a heated discussion.

"I still think Li Yuxuan has been overly idealized," said a bespectacled male student. "His diary was compiled in his later years—does it contain self‑glorification? How much of his protection of underground agents is factual, and how much is later construction?"

"But contemporary sources can corroborate," another female replied. "For example, the autumn 1950 record of visiting him, and the later recollections of the underground agents he protected. Historical research demands a chain of evidence; we cannot doubt everything merely because a figure is complex."

The debate yielded no conclusion. Yet everyone agreed on one point: the publication of The Diary of Li Yuxuan is like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring ripples throughout the field of historical research.